


The Anderson Test

by Reis_Asher



Series: (Not) Just A Machine [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, Fucked Up Hank Anderson, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, The Bridge Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Torn between his own conscience telling him Connor is alive and his desires telling him Connor is nothing more than an expensive sex doll, Hank devises a test to find out once and for all whether Connor is consenting to the sexual acts between them, or whether he's trapped beneath layers of programming, unable to resist Hank's commands.





	The Anderson Test

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been following this fic, you know what you're in for, but if you haven't, please read the tags first.
> 
> We're closing in on the end... I know how it goes from here on out, and I can't wait to write it.

Hank sat on the bench and opened a beer, trying to ignore the fact that Connor was sitting in the car two hundred feet away. It was too much to think about what had happened at the Eden Club and untangle what it might mean, and yet he could think about nothing else.

Connor couldn't have let those girls go because he related to their situation, could he? That was projecting a level of humanity on him he simply didn't possess. Connor hadn't displayed empathy when he'd let Hank hang from the rooftop. Why would he start now?

Unless he'd been alive all along, and he was letting them go because he didn't want those women to suffer the way he was suffering, being an object for men to use as they pleased. A wave of self-loathing hit Hank and he knew the beer wasn't strong enough to drown it, not tonight.

Hank heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the slush behind him and didn't have to look to know Connor was approaching. This little detour to the playground didn't pertain to Connor's mission, and so he had to prod Hank to get it going again. Hank swallowed his frustration at that. The last thing he cared about was the god damned deviant investigation. He didn't give a fuck if androids were murdering their human masters. All that had come to matter was Connor. The delight of fucking him senseless and the self-loathing that came afterwards. Connor filled his every sense, his every thought, even drowning out some of the pain that Cole's memories brought with them. Is that why he was addicted to Connor, because the endorphin rush of coming inside him was the only time he felt like he was alive himself?

Hank's revolver sat heavy in its holster underneath his jacket, as weighty as the question that sat on his shoulders. Could Connor consent to anything that had happened to him, no matter how enthusiastic he'd seemed at the time? Was he alive enough for the concept of consent to even pertain to him?

He was filled with a sudden drive to know for sure who was pulling the strings.

"Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot, before…" Hank cut himself off. Talking about Cole with Connor didn't sit right with him. The two subjects were like oil and water. How could he talk about that innocent child with the android he'd fucked and passed around to his friends? Those two worlds could never meet. Just sitting in the playground where Cole used to laugh and play looking into Connor's soft brown eyes disturbed Hank enough.

Would Cole have grown up to find out what kind of man his father truly was? He'd died oblivious of the true Hank, too young to know the bastard his mother had grown disgusted with when she found out he'd been the department slut while still married to her. He hadn't even bothered to pretend he wanted another committed relationship after she'd left. Cole's death had felt like a punishment for abandoning the concept of family in order to take as many dicks as he could. If he'd been a better father, perhaps… He cut the thought off. The well-traveled path of beating himself up over his sexual behavior no longer had any effect. Wanting sex wasn't in and of itself a bad thing. Wanting Connor without knowing if he was being tormented inside, aware of being raped and being powerless to do anything about it, that was the sin. Of doubting Connor's consent, and yet throwing caution to the wind anyway the second his dick got hard.

He'd blamed Gavin, but he knew deep down that none of this was Gavin's fault. He'd only suggested the plan during the interrogation because he knew the kind of man Hank was, deep down, and he'd been right—and he'd only known of Hank's true nature because he'd sucked him off to get the promotion to Detective.

What comes around goes around, as they said.

"Hm?" Hank was vaguely aware that Connor had said something, but he'd been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't heard a word. The android was pretty and his voice was soothing, but he had a tendency to talk too much, sometimes.

"You said, 'I used to come here a lot before'. Before what?" Connor asked.

"Before… Before nothin'." Hank zoned out again as Connor rambled on about the investigation, as if any of it really mattered. Hank humored him, going through the motions as Connor shared his thought processes out loud. Connor was good at his job. The DPD would probably be a much better place once humans were replaced. The seedy quid-pro-quo that went on behind closed doors would be replaced with good little robots who kept their minds on task and didn't get distracted by who was going to get fucked next.

"You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?"

Hank felt transparent, as if his skin had turned clear and Connor could see every ugly, blackened organ and dark thought inside him. The shiver that ran down his spine competed with a warm buzz as the alcohol worked its magic. Perhaps, with a few simple tests, he could see inside Connor as well, test his abilities and see if he really was becoming deviant or if that was just an illusion conjured up by a diseased mind eager to find new ammunition to fire at himself.

"Those two girls… they just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love," Hank mused.

"They can simulate human emotions, but they're machines. And machines don't feel anything," Connor insisted. Hank looked at him skeptically, trying to discern if he was telling his perception of the truth or trying to pacify Hank with the response he'd calculated was least likely to cause a negative reaction.

Hank hated that the tension in his muscles did ease up a little. Connor sounded every bit the cool, calculating machine, and the tight knot in his stomach that had to be his conscience uncoiled slightly. Perhaps letting the androids go had been a mistake on Connor's part, a simple case of misjudging when to take the shot. It would be an error to ignore the scientific method in favor of trying to confirm his own biases that Connor really was alive somewhere inside.

The knot tightened again, and he realized Connor's words weren't enough. Hank needed to override his programming and get to the reality of what Connor was. He needed to up the stakes. Preprogrammed responses weren't going to cut it. He had to put Connor on the edge and make him improvise if he wanted to get a glimpse of how Connor truly felt (if he felt anything at all).

"What about you, Connor?" Hank took a swig of beer and stood up. "You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?"

Connor looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner, your buddy to drink with… or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task."

It sounded like an invitation, as if Connor understood everything that was happening and was asking for more. No, it wasn't that. It was total and utter indifference on Connor's part. He was asking Hank to use him in whatever way he wanted, but with no joy or passion like a living being might possess. Rage flared in Hank's veins, anger he couldn't explain welling from some buried place deep inside him. Why did he want Connor to care? Surely it would be much better if he didn't.

"You could have shot those two girls, but you didn't. Why didn't you shoot, Connor?" Hank shoved Connor, needing to provoke a reaction—something, anything—that would tell Hank the truth about who and what Connor truly was. About who _he_ was. "Hm, some scruples suddenly enter into your program?"

"No… I just decided not to shoot, that's all." Connor looked legitimately afraid, but Hank was done with those puppy dog eyes. He was tired of going in circles with his conscience, unable to sleep as he wondered if he was a sick rapist or a lucky dude with a very expensive sex toy at his command.

He whipped out his revolver, the same one he'd pointed at his own head just hours ago and pointed it at Connor's skull. "But are you afraid to die, Connor?"

Connor's eyes seemed to flash with uncertainty, and Hank hated how human he looked. "I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation."

"What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?" Are you alive, Connor? Are you deviant? Hank wanted to scream his question out loud, but he was afraid of the answer like he'd only been afraid in his life one time before, when he'd held Cole's broken body in his arms and knew he was probably going to lose his precious son.

He didn't expect Connor to defy him by moving closer and pressing his forehead to the barrel of the revolver. "You know you're not going to shoot me, Lieutenant. You're just trying to provoke a reaction. I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you."

There was only one thing left to do, and that was ask directly. "You think you're so fucking smart… Always one step ahead, huh? Tell me this, smart ass. How do I know you're not a deviant?" 

Connor replied without hesitation. "I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not."

Hank's finger trembled on the trigger. He could shoot this fucking robot and get blackout drunk before CyberLife sent a replacement, but the thought of shooting Connor through the head filled him with a sick feeling, even if Connor was just a machine. His rage burned brightly, and he realized it was hatred at the thought that this android, this… thing, could emulate a human so convincingly and yet still be just an object.

If it was just a machine, there were better ways to entertain himself than killing it. Hank's hand trembled as he withdrew the gun, stuffing it back inside his jacket. No. He wasn't going to fuck Connor any more. He absolutely wasn't going to fuck Connor here, of all places. He snatched another beer bottle out of the six-pack, stalking away.

"Where are you going?" Connor called after him.

"To get drunker," Hank said. "I need to think." He needed distance from his desire, his cock already hardening in his jeans despite the cold. The thought of tearing Connor's jeans down and fucking him into the bench was too tempting. Given the conversation they'd just had, it wasn't much of a stretch to see Connor as just another android. What kind of living being defied a gun pressed into their face with no hint of fear at all? 

Hank gulped the beer down and tossed the bottle aside. Connor had walked away from the bench and was perched against the hood of his car with his arms crossed, snow drifting down onto his shoulders.

He was beautiful, and he was fucking irresistible. Hank knew that he was lost no matter how much his conscience screamed at him to stay away. The more Connor seemed to defy his expectations, the more he wanted to slam his dick into his hole and fuck him senseless, as if he could somehow wrest control of this impossible situation back from the android that held his soul on a string and was dragging it around in the mud. He stalked over to the car, grabbing Connor by the shoulders and turning him around. He shoved him down onto the hood and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to the ground and exposing his perfect, smooth ass to the cold night air.

"Lieutenant!" Connor gasped. He spread his legs to allow Hank easier access, and Hank's mouth dried up at how willing and eager Connor always seemed, even if it was only programming. He spat on his fingers and eased them inside Connor's hole, only to be greeted by wet, leftover semen still inside him.

"You little slut. Who else fucked you today? Was the bathroom not enough for you?" Hank was overcome by lust, the faint voice of resistance so quiet and distant as he slid his fingers in and out of Connor's sloppy hole. He reached around to grab Connor's dick, squeezing it and enjoying the noise that came out of Connor's mouth.

"Detective Reed was most interested in fucking Chris's semen into my hole. He fucked me before I left for your house. I did not tell him that I ran my cleaning program after everyone left the bathroom for sanitary purposes. He seemed satisfied by the illusion."

"Why didn't you run it after he fucked you, huh?" Hank asked.

"I knew you would want his sloppy seconds, Lieutenant. I was expecting an encounter at your home."

"If I hadn't been so hungover I would have fucked you into my mattress," Hank growled. He pulled his fingers out of Connor's ass and quickly freed his own cock from his jeans, pressing it into Connor's warm hole before the chilly night could temper his arousal. Connor's tight, wet heat felt so good wrapped around his dick, lubricated by Gavin's slick seed. "Fuck, Connor. I can't resist you. You know that, don't you?" It sounded almost like an apology and he hated the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. They sounded too much like an admission of guilt. He grabbed Connor's shoulders, pressing him down onto the hood as he slammed into his hole. "Do you like this, Connor? Do you like getting fucked by my huge cock? Huh?"

Connor grabbed the hood beneath the windshield wipers for purchase as Hank pulled his body down towards him.

"Yes," Connor groaned. "You're so big, Lieutenant…"

Hank could almost believe the sincerity in Connor's voice, and it was enough to make his conscience vanish for the moment. He fucked harder into Connor's ass, sweat breaking out on his brow in the cold night from the sheer physical exertion. He grabbed Connor's cock and pumped it with rough strokes, the android's whimpers driving him over the edge.

"Connor, fuck!" Hank spilled his seed inside Connor and continued to jerk him off, drinking every delicious moan and pretending it was consent as Connor came all over his hand with a whimper. Hank collapsed on top of Connor and gathered his breath for a few moments before pulling away and slipping out. The regret was seeping into his mind before he'd even tucked his dick back in his jeans and fastened his zipper. His cum dribbled out from between Connor's cheeks and his breath caught, trapped between a gasp and a sob. He turned away, unable to look as Connor stood and pulled his jeans up.

 _"I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner, your buddy to drink with… or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task."_ Perhaps that was as close to consent as he was going to get. Connor was Hank's to use as he saw fit, and Hank had simply taken advantage of his features. Connor had been exactly what Hank had needed him to be… an outlet for his twisted fantasies.

So why did it still feel so wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> The hardest parts of this to write are the bits where Hank tries to justify all this to himself and blames Connor for it. This fucked up Hank isn't the Hank I know and love, that's for sure!
> 
> Keep the comments going, they mean a lot.


End file.
